some serious spaghetti

indie aaron raleigh from amc's the walking dead. written and loved by loren. semi-selective.

[aarontwds]

nomadical​:

Feeling Aaron resting against him as lightly as he is has Paul wondering what it’d feel like if he just settled on top of him and blotted out the world completely. Not that he isn’t doing a good job of that already. Lips curl into a smile against Aaron’s chest when he hears the answer to his question. He can feel how fast his heart is beating against his mouth. Feel how his breath hitches and pauses when his lips ghost over his skin so lightly.

And it lures him to close his lips around that hardening circle of flesh and suck it between them. His tongue’s there to greet it. A hungry lick is given before a gentle, steady pressure begins to build and release. Only to build up again. Fingertips drift up Aaron’s side, over it and towards his shoulder blades were nails drag the same path back down. The way his skin tastes is too good. Everything Paul imagined (and he did imagine it..) and then some. Almost familiar in how many times the thought came pushing through his mind. Though the reality is far, far better.

He doesn’t stop until he makes him squirm, gasp or sink down into the feeling. Even then, it’s only long enough to pull up, flick the tip of his tongue against his work and hum quietly. “You should sit back,” he pants, “I’m not done yet…” And his hand slips between them, slips between Aaron’s legs where he palms against the bulge in his pants, too. “Not even close..,” and he finishes with another gentle swirl of warm, slick muscle against damp skin.

A low noise gruffs out of his chest as Paul’s mouth works over sensitive flesh, and he can feel the goosebumps rising over his arms, hair standing on end as he shivers. It’s all he can do to keep himself relatively upright on the sofa, he can feel his arm shaking already as his eyes squeeze shut tightly, pleasure lapping up his nerves like the tides of an ocean.

He can’t stop the other noises that leave him, or the way he tenses and relaxes. He wants to get his mouth on Paul and he wants Paul to never, ever stop what he’s doing.

“God,” Aaron grunts. “Jesus.” It’s more blasphemy than directed at Paul, but he imagines it fits either way. His skin feels hypersensitive and he’s got a vague feeling he’s going to last just long enough to maybe escape being embarrassed, but it - it doesn’t matter. He’s just - so glad to be here right now, wants to make Paul feel as good as he’s making him feel. He shifts, sitting back as Paul requested and trying his very, very best not to rock his hips into the pressure of Paul’s hand, and mostly failing.

Maybe the sofa wasn’t the best place for this, but honestly, Aaron can’t even fathom scrounging together enough brain cells to get upstairs.

He stares at him, twin spots of pink high on his cheeks.

[aarontwds]

nomadical​:

Aaron’s eyes on him has an effect that he knows he should’ve expected. Yet? When it hits him like a hot splash through his veins that pools in his belly? There’s a quiet choke on air that he has to swallow thick to recover from. As far as he’s noticed? It’s been forever since someone looked at him like that. Least long enough to make it obvious.. And it feels good. Considering who is doing the looking.

The touch continued against Aaron. His neck where Paul’s fingers curl as he deepens the kiss. Over his belly where he feels goosebumps chasing after his fingertips. Muscles jump and he grins against Aaron’s mouth. Unashamed that he’s having the effect on him he is. Rather? He’s enjoying himself very much. And then? Finally? Over the side of his pants where he hooks his pointer into a belt loop and begins the backwards descent down onto the sofa dragging Aaron along for the ride. Slowly at first. Enough to let Aaron get situated without toppling over on top of him. (Though the thought’s tempting.)

Resting the back of his neck and head against the arm rest, he doesn’t stop them until Aaron’s above him and he’s breaking the kiss long enough to draw a breath and ask, “This okay,” and lips once again find Aaron’s skin (this time right above his left nipple) as he waits for the answer.

There’s a soft noise in the back of his throat when Paul hooks his fingers into his belt loop, something going liquid and hot in his belly, and there’s an answering grin against his mouth. And then he’s being tugged.

He shuffles forward, and it takes a bit of awkward maneuvering to get onto the sofa without kneeing Paul anywhere (important or otherwise) but he manages, knees bracketed either side of him on the sofa, braced against the cushions - even though it’d feel really, really good to just lower himself until he rested fully against the other man. He’s sure Paul would like to be able to breathe. The kissing doesn’t really help - it’s - more than distracting, but he doesn’t break it until Paul does.

Aaron’s breath goes all funny in his chest as Paul’s mouth lands on his skin and he exhales, a little shakily. It’s - it’s been a long, long time, since he’s been touched like this. By anyone. But - the fact that it’s Paul. It - it does something to him. “More than,” he manages, because it might be slightly overwhelming but he’s so, so happy to be in this moment with him right now. To have finally gotten here. To this destination.

[aarontwds]

nomadical​:

There’s barely a blink when Aaron has to take a pause and remove his prosthetic. It doesn’t cross Paul’s mind anymore. Sure, when they are sparring–it’s obvious it’s there. But it’s simply become part of Aaron by now and he’s beyond accepted him long before he was missing an arm. His racing heartbeat is the only thing he can feel when their lips part for Aaron to do so. That and how quick is breath is.

Sea green eyes take in the sight of Aaron’s chest. Something he’s seen plenty of times. Either in changing clothes or catching a quick dip in the water to cool off. Or the times he’s caught sight of him when sleeping nearby in the safety of Alexandria or Hilltop. But there’s something different knowing he can reach out and touch him. Fingers itch to do so. They lift and pause..

..right..

His shirt. “Ah. Right. Right.” Grinning coyly at being the only one still fully clothed, that cheeky look remains as he reaches down and takes hold of the hem of his shirt. Up over his head it goes. Then down onto the floor. Paul grazes his fingertips over his belt–but they then reach up and rest gently against Aaron’s chest. He’s strong and Paul can feel it. A ripple splashes through his bones. Wanting and warm.

Paul sinks another inch when he toes out of his boots while watching his fingertips graze up to Aaron’s collarbones. Higher until his left hand cups the back of the taller man’s neck and pulls him down for another kiss. This one starts out desperate, needful and his touch disappears only to dance across the other’s belly as though he’s not sure where he wants to touch first.

There’s a smile clinging to the edge of his lips as Paul finally hauls his shirt off and tosses it, and he doesn’t try to hide the way his gaze trails over him. Privacy is in short supply in the apocalypse, so it’s not like he hasn’t seen Paul like this before, but it’s different in this way - for one, he doesn’t have to hide his appreciation. He bites his lower lip as Paul touches his chest, a slight shiver rousing gooseflesh over his skin, and his own hand strays over to Paul’s side, just to feel warm skin.

The smile twitches as Paul divests himself of his shoes and Aaron follows suit, evening up their height again - and his gaze remains trained on Paul’s face as the other man’s fingertips trail over his collarbones. It makes him sigh, the sound muffled as he’s pulled into a kiss that he gives into enthusiastically, his hand sliding around Paul’s side to go around his back - though he doesn’t pull him close as he wants to, because Paul’s got a hand across his belly and it’s making the muscles jump beneath his skin, sensitive and anticipating, and he doesn’t want to block his access.

He makes a noise into the kiss, appreciative and wanting, and he tries to back Paul a little closer to the sofa, though he’s not putting much effort into it at all.

[nomadical]

may your path be the sound of your feet upon the ground. independent || private || mutuals only Paul “Jesus” Rovia from amc’s the walking dead

written by: dixon

[aarontwds]

nomadical​:

Paul wouldn’t have noticed he was squeezed against the counter until the kiss was broken apart long enough for Aaron to actually mutter some words between their mouths. A quick nod and his fingers were looping through Aaron’s belt loops and dragging him towards the sofa. He knows the layout of his own trailer enough that he can take the steps blindly, walking backwards and pulling him along for the ride.

His lips are back on his each step, though. It’s a miracle the kisses he presses against Aaron’s mouth don’t distract him enough that he topples both of them over. Yet, he manages until the backs of his calves hit against the sofa. His grip moves from Aaron’s belt loops to his shoulders. Breath rushing in, he gasps for air as he tugs against the center of his shirt on the back. Between shoulder blades with an upturned brow.

“Take it off,” his voice is scratchy with want. Strained and a little further on the breathless side than it’d been just moments earlier. There’ve been so many times he’s seen the other shirtless. Whether it’s changing when they’re on the road or when he rushed to help the other after his accident. He’d be a liar if he said he hadn’t wondered what his skin would feel like. Those thoughts crept in so many times..

And now he’s going to find out.

Aaron grinned as he was dragged toward the sofa, mouth happily engaged as they crossed the distance. He trusted Paul would get them there safely, though he’d endure a banged knee or stubbed toe if it meant he could keep kissing the other man.

He groans lightly as he feels the tug on his shirt, the request for him to take it off. He doesn’t want to stop kissing Paul, but the idea of skin to skin contact is pretty alluring. He chases Paul’s mouth for a moment or two more, not ready to give it up before he manages to pry himself away (with perhaps a few dragging kisses along his jaw).

In order to take his shirt off, he has to unattach his prosthetic - he’s done it enough that the movement is smooth and quick, the prosthetic deposited carefully on the ground, but it still breaks his momentum a little. He tries not to be self-conscious about it - and it is a relief to have it off, but he still has to lean forward and kiss Paul, a little soft, a little dirty, just for a moment to get his head back in the game.

And then he’s pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it, immediately reaching for the hem of Paul’s shirt. “C’mon,” he says, a little breathy. “You too.”

[aarontwds]

nomadical​:

One heel lifts off the floor. Just enough to give him the leverage to run his lips along Aaron’s neck and up to his ear. Like he’s going to share some secret that’s just for the two of them, his voice drops to a soft whisper against the shell of flesh underneath his mouth. “I’ll give them back. If you let me.” A promise that he’s never once made. Has barely come close to in all honesty.

Fingers curl against the collar of Aaron’s shirt as he kisses his way back to his lips. Once he’s there? He seals the promise with a kiss that’s instantly deep with abandon. No holding back as he pours every last bit of the feeling of warmth and quiet that this moment’s filling him up with. He feels at peace. A missing puzzle piece’s finally back and he had no idea he’d lost it until it fell into his lap.

“Yeah. I promise,” he murmurs breathlessly when he pulls back for air. A flick of his gaze up to Aaron’s and he shoots him a quick, fleeting smile before once again capturing his lips as arms lift up and wrap around the man’s broad shoulders.

It quickly catches up to him how long he’s been holding this in and now that he has it? He’s not ready to stop. Or press pause. Or do anything other than savor the taste of his mouth and the feeling of his breath against his cheek.

Aaron exhales roughly at the words whispered in his ear, the full body shiver that overcomes him sparking along his spine. The corner of his mouth curls upward, and it’s almost scary, how much he wants this. Wants to be with Paul, wants to give him all the things he’s never thought to want before. He’ll let him. He’ll always let him.

He makes a soft, approving noise into the kiss, eyes fluttering closed as he melted against Paul, meeting the kiss with enthusiasm, pouring every bit of feeling that’s currently fluttering around him into it. To think, there were years when he could have been doing this (he knows he wouldn’t have been ready, but still, knowing that time had been wasted - well, he wasn’t going to think about it).

He smiles, a bright, happy grin that gets swallowed in another kiss. He could do this for the rest of his life.

He kisses him, sweeping, deep kisses that leave him breathless before he breaks off abruptly, eyes dark as he stares at Paul. “Hey - let’s - couch?” he says, unable to keep his mouth off Paul for long, but well aware it’s probably not comfortable to be pressed against the counter.

[aarontwds]

nomadical​:

Years.

A small, wistful smile curls the edges of Paul’s mouth upwards. Doesn’t take him long to figure out that it’s been about the same then. But there’s his issue with getting close to people. Aaron who was devoted completely to his beloved and while Paul saw him attractive? (Hell. Both he and Eric were attractive, he can’t deny that.) He’d never looked past friendship as far as he was concerned.

Then tragedy and space for Aaron to mourn. He’d settled on the idea that friendship would be all they had. And he was find with that. Aaron was the best friend he’d had in a long time. Maggie, Enid, Daryl, Aaron. The people closest to his heart. The ones he adored above all others. Until time went by. Years. That began to show him that wanting something more permanent? Might not be so bad. As permanent as you can get in this world.

Not only that. It showed him who he wanted it with.

“Aaron,” he sighs out happily and nudges the tip of a pointed nose against the other man’s neck. Soon, his lips brush over that spot before he fits the bridge of his nose against it and closes his eyes. His chest comes to rest against Aaron’s. Arms tighten their hold on him. “You make me want things I haven’t wanted…ever.”

A broad hand lays against Paul’s upper back, just resting there, an elbow leaning on the counter. He can feel the steady heat of him, and he wants to tug him forward, hold him - make up for all the time he hasn’t been doing it. He’s always been an affectionate sort - liberal with a hand on the shoulder, or the brush of shoulders, but there’s a difference between those friendly touches and the way he wants to hold Paul now.

He smiles again at his name, at the brush of Paul’s nose against his neck, shivers at the touch. The shiver gets a little stronger as lips follow his nose, fingers curling slightly in the shirt on his back. A content little noise escapes him as Paul leans into him a little, holds onto him a little tighter, and there’s a marked height difference between them but that doesn’t stop him from wanting to melt into him.

“Yeah?” he asks, sounding a little wondering, a little touched. Paul deserves everything good in this world, deserves everything he wants and Aaron would be overjoyed to be the one he deemed worthy of giving it to him.

“I’ll give them to you,” he says, and yes he might not know what they are, but he’d give Paul anything.

[aarontwds]

nomadical​:

Blocked out are any sort of thoughts that’d ask him if he knew what he was doing and was willing to risk any sort of friendship they had by deepening the kiss. Gone were any doubts that might rise up and have him pulling back to offer an apology. Inside him, there’s a longing for this to not end. One that has him holding onto Aaron’s shirt collar as his hands fall to rest there. Tight enough to give himself the leverage it takes to nudge his tongue deeper in. And taste he found there is like heaven.

Air rushes into his lungs when Aaron is the first one to pull back. He forgot how long it’d been since he took a breath. Dizzy from the kiss and lack of oxygen. He doesn’t mind in the slightest. In fact? He swoons forward with it, nose nudging Aaron’s right on the tip. When their eyes meet, he feels something in him melt even further. A gooey puddle of whatever his insides have become under the weight of that gorgeous stare.

He huffs a laugh, smiling right after as his left hand sweeps up to cup the back of Aaron’s head. Fingertips toy with his curls and he tilts his head to the side, a curiosity bubbling up inside of him. “How long have you been holding that in?” He’s got to wonder if it’s as long as he knows he has. Another stroke of his fingers and he hitches his shoulders in a shrug. “I have to wonder if it’s as long as I have…” His voice trails off and he feels warmth splash on the bridge of his nose and across his cheekbones.

There’s no regret to be found, just a quiet contentment, a joy that he hasn’t felt in a long, long time. Lots of things can go wrong, that’s true - this world is cruel and Aaron doesn’t dare pretend like that doesn’t scare him, but - he - they have a chance to be happy.

Why not go for it?

He hums lightly, an easy rumble in his chest as Paul plays with his hair. He likes how it feels, a light shiver trailing up his spine.

Aaron’s gaze roves over the splash of color on Paul’s cheeks, and his smile turns soft and fond. He leans in, presses a kiss over one cheekbone, nudges his nose against him. “I’m willing to bet it is,” he says, honestly. It hadn’t happened immediately, of course - when he’d first met Paul, there’d been Eric and while he could see that the other man was attractive, he was devoted and his heart never wandered. And then after had been the grief and it’d been difficult to see through it, like a black shroud around him.

And then - it’d lightened, bit by bit, and he’d started to see Paul in a whole new light.

“Definitely a while,” he says softly. “Years.”

[taiturner]

You heard me coming again?

[aarontwds]

@mercyprevaild​ || loud and deafening silence meme || accepting hospital .   my  muse  is  told  that  yours  is  in  the  hospital clinic . Aaron isn’t even sure who it is that tells him, only that one second he’s watering a sad looking tomato plant in the front lawn and the next he’s hurrying toward the clinic without even pausing to drop the watering can. 

His internal mantra is Rick Rick Rick, concern for the other man an overwhelming feeling pushing him forward. 

He clatters up the stairs, pausing only long enough to deposit the watering can on a bench outside, trying not to imagine all the scenarios which could end up with Rick in the clinic. Maybe he should have listened to whoever had come to tell him - but - all he’d heard was Rick was in the clinic and everything else had gone to white noise.

“Rick?” he calls as he enters the clinic, barely pausing to acknowledge whoever is on duty today. “Rick?” he beelines toward where the patients are kept, his heart pounding in his chest.

[aarontwds]

nomadical​:

Paul watches as Aaron tips forward. Feels his heart damn near leap to the back of his throat when there’s the warmth of Aaron’s breath moving across his lips. Right before their mouths touch and he gets the wind kicked out of his lungs with the sensation.

It’s been a very long time since he’s been kissed. Even longer since it was someone he had feelings for. And, God. He does have feelings for this man. More than friends. More than a simple connection that binds two people together. It’s both of those and more than that. Deeper. Unbreakable in how he just wants to be near him. And never see him go.

It’s damn near too much… And at the same time? Not enough..

Without thinking, he squeezes Aaron’s hand and then lets it go. Only for both sets of fingers to reach up and cup Aaron’s cheeks just at the cheekbones. Fingertips toying with the curly hairline at his temples. His head tilts, his lips part and when his tongue pushes past the barrier of Aaron’s lips and seeks a deeper taste? It’s with a hum of contentment that’s fed into the kiss instantly.

Aaron hums into the kiss at the squeeze to his hand, and he leans into the touch, another quiet noise escaping him as Paul deepens the kiss. His hand slides over the counter, against Paul’s back, tightens his grip slightly but doesn’t pull him - just - enjoys the contact.

He kisses him until he starts to feel a little lightheaded, the push and pull of their mouths together addictive already. He’d have been okay being friends with Paul - because at the root of it, he just wants the other man in his life, but this? This is good. Great. There was a time when anything between them might have just been something physical - it’d taken Aaron a long, long while to reach a place where he could see himself being happy with anyone else, but he’d finally come to it.

He broke off the kiss to take a breath, chest rising and falling a little more rapidly than usual, and there was another smile on his face as he pressed his forehead against Paul’s, and then he pulls away just enough to look the other man in the eyes. “That’s even better than the spaghetti,” he says, with a crooked smile.

[aarontwds]

nomadical​:

Paul’s attention’s only dragged away by the feeling of Aaron’s hand on top of his. Only then does he steal a glance down at the sight of their hands resting together before it swings back up and he takes in a breath through his mouth at how much closer the other’s come.

His belly goes for one hell of a spin. Takes his brain with it, too.

‘ I want to kiss you. ‘

It’s so raw and unashamed that it strikes a chord deep inside of him, softens his eyes, steals his breath. His fingers part and lift up, pushing themselves through Aaron’s before he curls them back together. Taking in the sight of Aaron’s lips, he can’t help the way his heart skips a few beats. Poets nailed that feeling right on the head, didn’t they?

“Then I guess you should…,” he half smiles when he meets those eyes again. His own a few shades darker as the pupils start to swallow the color whole. Anticipation floods in and one heel lifts off the floor as he inches in closer still… An open invitation.

His pulse trips up, fluttering a little faster. While he’d understand if Jesus didn’t want him to - that doesn’t mean he’s not helplessly hopeful. His gaze searches Jesus’ as he waits for an answer, unassuming and patient. His fingers twitch around Jesus’, the warm easiness melding together.

The relief floods through him in a rush, and then there’s joy, and excitement, and maybe a little nervousness.

It’s been a really, really long time since his last first kiss.

Aaron smiles, and he’s still smiling when he presses his mouth against Jesus’, the motion easy, steady, but gentle. He sobers a bit, when his lips touch Jesus’, eyes flickering closed, his fingers squeezing his. He keeps it simple, enjoying the sparks that race up and down his nerves at the contact, at how easy it feels to kiss the other man. He wishes he had another hand to bring up, to cup Jesus’ - Paul’s face, feel the bristle of his beard beneath his palm.

[aarontwds]

nomadical​:

The tension can be felt through his whole body. There’s a string of it connected from his toes to his throat where he swallows around a lump that feels like it keeps getting bigger. He shouldn’t have pulled away. Should’ve stayed at Aaron’s side and let that touch linger. Least til he got whatever this is out of his system. This want to touch him. To reach out and take his hand as he stands up. Pull him close.

Paul watches.

Seagreen eyes dart across Aaron’s as the taller man comes closer, closer. There’s a jolt of regret that hits Paul square in the chest when those steps stop right in front of him and don’t come any nearer. His chest rises. A deep breath.

‘ Hey. ‘

“Hey,” he parrots back unable to look away as he pulls his bottom lip between his front teeth and chews on the corner. His hands flinch against the lip of the counter and he bows his head in a slight nod without breaking the stare. His pulse is racing. A visible thrum against the side of his neck. What good is air anyway? Apparently none. Cause it doesn’t feel like he’s able to take any in. —In the best sort of way possible.

Aaron feels like a whole herd of butterflies has taken up residence in his belly, watching Jesus. His eyes track the imprint of his teeth against his bottom lip, then flick up toward his eyes - and he nearly aches with how much he wants to reach out. He shifts, moves a little closer, bracing his prosthetic on the counter aside Jesus, and his other hand reaches out, touches his side lightly, gingerly. Finds his hand on the counter, rests his fingers atop it.

“I want to kiss you,” he says, honest and bare.

Maybe he should keep the words to himself. Maybe he should keep this platonic between them. But this is Jesus, and this world doesn’t give second chances.

If Jesus rejects him, he’d be disappointed, but not pset. He’d understand. This world makes it hard to want things, to be okay with wanting things. To not be afraid.

[aarontwds]

nomadical​:

Paul visibly loses his breath when their eyes meet this time. Maybe it’s the candlelight and how it softens the room in an orange glow. Or maybe it’s the fact he hasn’t had anyone over for more than an hour or two here and there. And that he realizes he misses the companionship. Or–Aaron himself. It’s Aaron. And he doesn’t have it in him to look away just yet. 

Lips part at Aaron’s admission. Then press together in a bewildered sort of smile that’s mystified and awestruck. “Is that so,” he asks softly, “Guess it’s good you stayed then.” Fingers gently slide up Aaron’s neck to cup it. Paul watches his hand move like it’s out of his control to stop it when he glides it forward and cups the other’s cheek feeling the softness of skin and his beard.

“Got to admit. I’d find it hard to kick you out,” his touch turns into a graze of a thumb pad against the corner of his mouth. Just at the hairline there. He blows out a breath and swallows heavy before shoving his brows together and smiling towards his wrist and then the floor. Another step backwards and he can set the bowl on the counter but his touch slips away and falls to his side. One more. He leans against the countertop, subtly grazing his fingertip against the pad of his thumb as the ghost of Aaron’s skin is firmly in his mind.

What..just happened?

Aaron smiles. “Guess it is,” he murmurs back, the tail end of the words losing their breath as Jesus’ hand comes up over his neck, slides against his beard. He shivers, eyes darkening slightly as he stares up at Jesus.

His next exhale is a shiver in his chest, heavy gaze stuck on Jesus. The light touch of his thumb against the corner of his mouth hits him dead center, leaves him feeling a little unmoored. His gaze remains fixed on Jesus as he takes a step back, and he’s missing the touch even though it’d barely even been there in the first place. There’s a heady sort of tension here, and knows it’s probably not the best idea, crossing a line. There’s a lot to consider, before making a decision like that.

But he can’t help the flutter of disappointment at Jesus’ retreat.

And he can’t seem to help the way he rises to his feet either, bringing him right up to Jesus as he leans against the counter. “Hey,” he says softly, gaze searching Jesus’ face. He wants to move in, press him against the counter and press their mouths together, but Jesus had retreated for a reason, and he doesn’t want to cross that line if Jesus doesn’t want it crossed.

[aarontwds]

nomadical​:

Paul bobs his head in a nod. “If you think of anything, let me know. Whatever it takes to help. The best we can.” Because, in the end, all they have is each other–er. All the communities have is each other. Soon, he’s down to the last bite and the empty bowl is sat on the table. One long stretch and he lets the foot settle in his belly. Warm and full and simply enjoying the company? It’s hard not to want to get used to this. To want to keep this company and this feeling–that he ends up not realizing he’s been watching Aaron without saying anything as his thoughts ran away from him.

He clears his throat and swipes a palm across his face before blinking down at his bowl and plucking it up. He’ll take care of them in the morning and keep the water he’s brought in for drinking. 

Standing and moving behind Aaron towards the sink, he pauses as he walks right near the other’s shoulder. Reaching over, he clasps it and curls his fingers in against the curve of a shoulder blade. “Thanks for saying. Honestly? I wasn’t ready to get rid of you yet.” His voice is quiet, exploratory in tone. Like he’s wondering if it was okay to admit that out loud.

He nods. He knows that the communities would do anything they could to support each other - though they’d definitely gone through their spats of time in which relationships were far more tense. But at the core - they were all survivors. They all wanted to make sure the others would be okay. It was them against the dead.

He dug into the spaghetti, washing down the pasta with water. Soon his belly was full, and he was content. His gaze flicked up to find Jesus watching him, and his expression softened, a slight questioning look levered at him, though it was mild.

He watches Jesus get up, and the hand on his shoulder spreads an easy warmth through him. He tilts his head up to meet the other’s' gaze.

Aaron looks up, holds his gaze warmly for a long moment. He smiles softly. “I never do want to leave,” he admitted. Every visit to Hilltop, or more specifically, Jesus, was harder to pry himself away from than the last. As it was, he didn’t see the other man near as much as he wanted to, and there wasn’t often time for them to spend extended amounts of time together - various duties pulling them this way and that. He couldn’t help but think that it’d be so much easier if Jesus had himself a little house in Alexandria, down the street (or, a room even. In Aaron’s house).

[aarontwds]

nomadical​:

Paul watches Aaron’s reaction to the spaghetti and has to smile. Good. If he was going to have something he used to love, it better be good. And by the looks of it? Aaron wouldn’t have any complaints. Satisfied with that, he digs in having to tuck a strand of unruly hair back behind his ear to keep it out of the way. Only to have it protest and come swinging forward with the other again. He, eventually, gives up and just avoids them.

Laughter spills out at poor Aaron’s misfortune with the cookie attempt. “Not everyone can be Carol but, hey, you tried.” Indeed. Not everyone can be that woman. But if every community had one of her in it? That’d be something.

“She’s good, by the way. Rode out to meet her halfway about a week ago. Carol, Jerry. We traded a few things. Caught up. Have you been out that way lately? Place is getting old but they’re making it work. So far.” There was some worry stirred up in him when he saw the state parts of The Kingdom were falling into the last time he made the full trek there. They made a promise to tell him if they needed the help of their blacksmiths. Nothing’s been asked for yet.

He goes quiet as he digs out a few more forks with of noodles making sure to dab some of the sauce from the side of the bowl. Only after a drink of water does he clip in with a, “How’s Alexandria holding up? Anything you need before we go in the morning?”

He takes another bite of spaghetti, bracing the bowl with his prosthetic. After dinner he’ll probably take it off, give his arm some rest - he’s well used to wearing it by now, but that doesn’t make it very comfortable. His glance sways occasionally to Jesus, watching a stray strand of hair fall into his face - and his fingers twitch around the fork with the urge to reach over. He focuses on the spaghetti. He grins. “No, no they cannot,” he says. 

Aaron sobered a little as Jesus informed him about how The Kingdom was doing. “Not recently,” he admitted. “The council keeps me pretty busy at home,” he said. Less time out and about - and he has to admit, a small part of him misses it. Gracie keeps him grounded at home, she needs him - but there was a time when being outside the walls was a breath of fresh air. Finding people, bringing them in - he’s struggled with his feelings about that, given what they’ve been through. “No, I think we’re alright,” he said. “Things seem to be holding up for the time being,” he says.

[ohisms]

𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃  &  𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄    (a  series  of  nonverbal  prompts .   mature  themes  present ,   ‘ my ’  muse  belongs  to  the  one who  posted  the  meme  -  send   “ + REVERSE ”   to  reverse  the  prompts .)

→     𝐈 .    GENERAL

❛   hush .   raise  a  finger  in  a  gesture  to  silence  my  muse . ❛   sit .   gesture  for  my  muse  to  sit  down . ❛   door .   hold  a  door  open  for  my  muse . ❛   tap .   tap  my  muse  on  the  shoulder  to  garner  their  attention . ❛   hunger .   give  my  muse  something  to  eat  /  drink . ❛   cook .   present  my  muse  with  home - cooked  food . ❛   brush .   work  a  brush  /  comb  through  my  muse’s  hair . ❛   read .   silently  read  a  book  alongside  my  muse . ❛   hand .   hold  out  a  hand  for  my  muse  to  take . ❛   dressed .   help  my  muse  put  on  an  article  of  clothing . ❛   note .   give  my  muse  a  note  saying :   [ content ] . ❛   amplify .   turn  up  the  music  in  the  car .

→     𝐈𝐈 .    ANGST

❛   patch .   help  my  muse  patch  up  a  wound . ❛   night terrors .   hold  my  muse  after  they  wake  up  from  a  nightmare . ❛   company .   silently  sit  with  my  muse  to  comfort  them. ❛   hospital .   my  muse  is  told  that  yours  is  in  the  hospital . ❛   revelation .   show  my  muse  evidence  of  a  lie  they  told . ❛   indulge .   find  my  muse  drinking  to  cope . ❛   downfall .   find  my  muse  collapsed  on  the  ground . ❛   console .   comfort  my  muse  as  they  cry . ❛   nurse .   give  my  muse  company  in  the  hospital .

→     𝐈𝐈 .    AFFECTIONATE

❛   wink .   wink  at  my  muse .  ❛   wrap .   wrap  an  arm  around  my  muse’s  [ shoulders  /  waist ] . ❛   caress .   gently  caress  my  muse’s  face . ❛   tousle .   mess  playfully  with  my  muse’s  hair . ❛   chest .   place  your  head  on  my  muse’s  chest .    ❛   comb .   comb  fingers  through  my  muse’s  hair . ❛   grasp .   run  to  my  muse  &  jump  into  their  arms . ❛   lean .   lean  on  my  muse’s  shoulder . ❛   tender .   kiss  my  muse  on  the  [ forehead  /  cheek  /  nose ] . ❛   abrupt .   kiss  my  muse  out  of  the  blue . ❛   chaste .   chastely  kiss  my  muse . ❛   good morning .   kiss  my  muse  the  morning  after . ❛   volumes .   gaze  at  my  muse  in  a  way  that  silently  says  ‘i love you’ .

→     𝐈𝐈𝐈 .    VIOLENT

❛   strike .   [ slap / punch ]  my muse in the face . ❛   gun .   wield  a  gun  at  my  muse . ❛   twist .   twist  my  muse’s  arm  behind  their  back . ❛   throttle .   aggressively  wrap  your  hands  around  my  muse’s  throat . ❛   parch .   burn  my  muse  with  a  hot  object . ❛   take down .   forcefully  bring  my  muse  to  the  ground . ❛   gouge .   wield  a  sharp  object  at  my  muse . ❛  shunt .   shove  my  muse  backwards . ❛  stickup .   yell  at  my  muse  to  put  their  hands  in  the  air. ❛  shoot .   [ fatally  /  non-fatally ]   shoot  my  muse . ❛  stab .   stab  my  muse with a  [ knife / other object ].

→     𝐈𝐕 .    NSFW

❛   surprise .   send  an  unexpected  nsfw  image  to  my  muse . ❛   pin .   push  my  muse  against  a  [ wall,  table,  other ] . ❛   go down .   go  down  on  my  muse . ❛   choke .   intimately  wrap  your  hands  around  my  muse’s  throat . ❛   belt loops .   pull  my  muse  closer  by  their  belt loops . ❛   skinny dipping .   go  skinny  dipping  with  my  muse . ❛   rip .   tear  a  piece  of  clothing  from  my  muse’s  body . ❛   mark .   leave  a  mark  on  my  muse’s  body  [ specify where ] .